


Christmas Hope

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Another Twelve Days of Christmas [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has returned, but for Dr Watson the loss of his beloved Mary still sombers his mood.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alafaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/gifts).



As we sat in our armchairs on Boxing Day evening, I had cause to reflect that this was something I had not imagined we would ever do again.  After Holmes’ supposed death Mary and I had continued to celebrate the season, as one might imagine, but we were both conscious of someone missing.  And the previous Christmas, when I had lost not only Holmes, but my beloved Mary too, was one which I had spent in misery, for wherever I looked there were remembrances of happier times.

But now, with Holmes once more back where he should be, I was able to celebrate.  We had not been extravagant, but Mrs Hudson had been allowed to decorate our rooms with greenery and there were candles burning on the mantelpiece, shedding a warm glow on the red holly berries.

Holmes had been solicitous, wishing to ensure we did not duplicate the way Mary had decorated our marital home, knowing how difficult I would find that.  I appreciated the thought, more than I could express.  But he need not have worried, Mrs Hudson, although admirable in her way, had nothing of the delicacy of touch which Mary had, and the result was completely different.

On Christmas Day we had dined well on goose and Holmes and I had shared a laugh at the remembrance of Henry Baker and the unexpected outcome of the loss of his goose.   The rest of the day had passed quietly, and, I have to admit, a little sadly.  Amidst my delight at having Holmes back, I could not avoid memories of my beloved wife.

Holmes was very understanding and said nothing more that day.  However, the following morning, when I came down for breakfast, he greeted me with a cheery, “How do you fancy a walk through London this morning?  The weather seems settled and I am sure some exercise would be good for both of us.  We dined very well yesterday, and I am confident Mrs Hudson will have an equally fine repast for us today.  If we do not do something I fear I shall not be able to move at all afterwards.”

I laughed and agreed with him.  It was quite cold, but we walked briskly and kept ourselves warm.  And Holmes had been right.  Getting out and about helped blow away many of my darker thoughts.  On our return to Baker Street I was pleasantly surprised to discover I once again had a good appetite.  Mrs Hudson provided the traditional cold meats, which she supplemented with a pork pie.  This was followed with a choice of two desserts, both of which were delicious.

In the evening, we settled in our armchairs, Holmes with his pipe, myself with a cigar, both of us with a glass of brandy.  This evening, instead of dwelling on memories, we talked about the future.  Holmes had various plans in mind and shared them with me.  I was delighted to discover he had every intention of including me within his plans.

And thus we sat talking, whilst the fire gradually died down.  Eventually, Holmes made to prod it back into life, but I stretched and declared my intention of going to bed.  And for the first time in very many months I fell asleep quickly, tired by the exercise and fresh air, and finally feeling I had something to look forward to.

 

 


End file.
